Meeting San Pedro

Our first morning on Ambergris Caye arrived. Due to the early hour, a silent beach greeted us when we emerged from our cabana. As soon as I stepped out of the shade of the porch, the sun blazed down upon me, immediately stinging my eyes and pale Seattle skin. Sweat beaded on my brow in the short 30-second walk from the cabana to the restaurant.

We had coffee and typical egg-based American breakfast fare, which included an introduction to fry jacks, delicious hot triangles of deep-fried dough. These became a go-to for us. During breakfast, we asked our server, Maggie, about the logistics of taking the Caye's ferry to downtown San Pedro that day. She repeatedly suggested we use the free bicycles that the resort provided, but riding on sand is no easy feat, especially in intense heat, and we knew we'd just arrive at our destination in a foul mood and drenched in sweat. We also asked her about excursions, as the outgoing couple we saw the day before had suggested. "Make I check," replied Maggie. This phrase sparked my linguistic curiosity and I soon adopted it into my own lexicon, replacing "I will..." with "Make I..." whenever I could.

A couple sitting at a nearby table overheard our inquiries and raved about taking a snorkeling excursion. Adam, the highly-recommended boatman who had escorted us to the resort the day before, came to our table and talked us into taking a private snorkeling/fishing/beach barbecue excursion with him the following day. We accepted, of course, and I spent the rest of the day being excited about it.

We found out the ferry would be coming sooner rather than later, so we abruptly took our leave of breakfast and showered in a hurry in order to catch it. The ferry and its operators were nowhere near as gentle and friendly as our private water escort the day before, but it wasn't particularly scary either. I comforted myself with the notion that they wouldn't stay in business by drowning tourists. We disembarked safely at San Pedro's marina, paid our fare to a woman with an impressive spiral braid design in her hair, and walked into town.

The day before, we had scoped out cigar stores in San Pedro and found a listing for a place called Havana Cigars. There don't appear to be numbered addresses in San Pedro, but the town is small enough that we only had to walk a few blocks before we found it. Charlie talked shop with the well-informed and friendly proprietor, Carlos Utrera, and then went into the humidor to make his selection. He walked out with a literal handful of cigars.

In his element

After leaving the cigar shop, we wandered aimlessly through town. Luckily, we found a mall where Charlie could buy some sunglasses. He didn't actually own a pair before this trip. Eventually, we ended up back on the beach, walking north toward the marina where we would catch the ferry back to the resort.

"San Pedro Town Public Library"

At one point we were accosted by a friendly "reggae artist" who tried to sell us his CD and/or some "buds". Another vendor not far behind him caught our attention by shaking his head and mouthing the word "fake" while indicating our aspiring Bob Marley. We declined to purchase CDs or buds from him and continued up the beach. The midday heat bore down on us so we ducked onto the shaded patio of a random cafe simply because its sign said it had smoothies. It took approximately an eon to actually get our smoothies, but they were refreshing enough to merit the long wait.

My cute husband

Thirsty

We popped into a convenience store to load up on junk food and then bought ferry tickets back to the resort.

Back at Capricorn, Charlie had a smoke and we read and enjoyed the view while waiting for a nearby barbecue restaurant to open for dinner.

Doing what he does best

Hassle free

Capricorn's dock in daylight, as seen from the Cabana

Pelican taking off

A permanently anchored anchor

Night fell and it was time to find sustenance. We borrowed a flashlight from a staff member named Soto so that our trek along the beachfront path would be less precarious. It turned out to be an excellent hour for frog-spotting, and I do love a good frog sighting. We shone our flashlight on the path for a cycling Scotsman and his silent female companion. We asked the Scotsman if he knew of a place where we could cut through to the main road. He indicated a place but warned us that the path was quite sketchy in places. We opted to trespass through a paved private condo complex and found the muddy road. It was not so much a road as a network of large mud puddles of unknown depth. We braved it anyway, thoroughly sullying our shoes, only to find that the barbecue restaurant in question was closed.

We returned to Capricorn's restaurant, dined on lobster and crab as consolation, and called it a night. It was not a particularly restful night though. Strong winds had begun to blow in from across the sea, causing the palm trees to whip our cabana all night. Ice frequently broke off from the swamp cooler and once crashed so loudly that we thought the entire unit had fallen off the wall - not the best way to wake up in the middle of the night.